Sunday, September 13, 2009
Ramblings: Nacho Favorite Scent
Saturday we took the kids to a sporting goods store to try and round up the last few items Alex needed for his baseball uniform. We searched high and low but only ended up about 2 of the five things we needed--apparently everyone had already been out shopping for 'youth small' black baseball pants and 'youth small' cups to protect the family jewels, because I've looked several different places and there are none to be found.
(One sales guy even tried to convince me to buy a size 12-14 cup and then just buy some really tight sliding shorts to wear over it to hold it in place. Are you kidding me? The kid would look ridiculous with a GIANT, oversized cup bulging out of his small baseball pants, not to mention how uncomfortable that would probably be. I'm just guessing here--I have no ability to test it or any relevant cup-on-junk experience to know, but come on. The HUGE cup, really TIGHT spandex shorts combo doesn't sound like a great solution for ANY problem I can think of...but how about you just order more smaller sized cups?)
Anyway, so as we were shopping, I had one cart with 1/2 the crew and we went to go look for black socks. As we pulled up to the sock display, there was a horrible, terrible, nastiest-of-the-nasty B.O. cloud around the area. It was emanating from one of the employees, crouched on the ground restocking an area of the socks. Whoa. Talk about potent. I scooted the cart a safe distance down the aisle and hurriedly tried to find the size and color I wanted (you guessed it--black 'youth small').
So then Jeremy comes a few minutes later with the other 1/2 of the crew, including Alex. Right as I'm about to motion to Jeremy, like "Let's get outta here, it totally reeks," Alex hollers really loudly, "WHAT IS THAT SMELL?"
I frantically try to shake my head at him to get him to be quiet, but I'm panicking because I realize he's not going to be quiet about it and he won't be distracted. I start worrying that he's going to start guessing ALOUD who the stinky culprit is, but then he says, "WHY DOES IT SMELL LIKE NACHOS IN HERE?
WHAT IS THAT NACHO SMELL?
WHERE IS IT COMING FROM?
WHO HAS NACHOS?"
At this point, I'm starting to crack up because he's innocently hollering about a mysterious nacho aroma, when in fact there are NO nachos, all there is is stinky armpit, hygienically-challenged, make-you-want-to-shower-immediately, B.O. floating around. Jeremy was looking kinda confused and started sniffing the air (probably becoming overpowered and lightheaded by the odor) so I mouth to him, "It's B-O... B-O. Not nachos... B-O," and I sorta motion down to the clueless guy with his back to us, still vigilantly sorting socks.
We took off from the sock section pretty fast after that. And the whole rest of the time we were in the store, Alex was perplexed how that one far corner of the store emitted such a strong nacho smell.
I don't know what kind of nachos that kid has been eating lately, but I think I'll pass on nachos in the near future. Or pretty much forever after that. And I'll continue to stand by my decision to pass on the genius suggestion of the giant cup/extra small spandex shorts solution.